Addictive Affliction
by dystopia97
Summary: She blinded me. She was the sun, the stars, the moon. In that second, I didn't care that I couldn't see. I took her hand, and let her lead me into the light.
1. Admiration

Hermione stood in Dumbledore's office, staring fondly at the silver instruments. She reached out her hand to fiddle with one. It reminded her of a small, miniature windmill, and when she spun it, it let off a beautiful high note.

"Careful," the Headmaster spoke from his position at the window. His face was solemn as he turned to look at her, and he took his seat behind his desk.

She spun the blades again, closing her eyes as the sound washed over her. Abruptly, the note was silenced, and she opened her eyelids to see Dumbledore had his wand pointed at the object.

"It's designed to make you fall asleep," he explained, gesturing to the wooden chair opposite his desk.

She instead leaned against the back of it. She couldn't bear to be still at a time like this. "Maybe falling asleep would be better right now," she pondered. "I could use an escape from reality."

Dumbledore sighed, and she swore in those few second she saw him at his real age. All through Hogwarts she had imagined Dumbledore to be this strong wizard, aged, yes, but eternally powerful. Now, at her sixth year, she could see how old he was. His wrinkled face was worn down, the sparkle in his eyes extinguished. She eyed his blackened hand on the table, and shuddered at how it weakened him.

"Hermione, we need you." That simple sentence, delivered in unwavering words, sliced through Hermione's heart.

She had forgotten how clever Dumbledore was, always having a trick up his robe. After the fight in the Ministry of Magic, everyone realised how dire the situation was. During her first week of her sixth year, Dumbledore had called her up to her office.

He told her he had a plan to defeat the Dark Lord. When he pulled out the silver time turner, it all fell into place.

"You need me to go _fifty years _into the past to defeat _Lord Voldemort_?" she stressed, her right hand reached up to clutch her neck, a tell-tale sign that she was tense.

Dumbledore had gone into the mechanics of the jump, until finally there she was, leaning against a chair, her head slowly nodding up and down in agreement.

"I'll do it," she said, finally sitting down in the chair. "As long as you promise my parents will never know who I was." She decided this was best. If she managed to make it back to this time, she could remove the memory charm.

"I promise."

She sighed. "And Harry and Ron?" She felt a twinge in her stomach at the thought of leaving them behind.

"I'll tell them you left a hero," Dumbledore vowed.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she picked up the silver time turner. It looked so innocent, even pretty. The silver sand glowed slightly in the firelight, and the crystal chambers reflected the light in rainbow colours. She clasped the necklace around her slim neck.

"How many turns?" she asked. It was different to the turner she used in her third year.

"Each spin is a decade. So you would need to spin it five times." Dumbledore replied, his eyes raking the time turner. Hermione saw and he guiltily looked away, but not before she clocked the look of fascination. She knew defeating the Dark Lord would be Dumbledore's top priority, but the time turner must pose such an interest to him. Once again, she eyed all his silver creations. She guessed the mind of the inventor was hard to crush.

"Guess I'd best get on with it," Hermione muttered to herself. She touched the dial on the time turner.

"Wait!" Dumbledore gasped, jumping out his chair.

Flabbergasted, Hermione dropped the trinket as though it burnt her. "_What_?"

"You almost rushed 50 years into the past, into the arms of the Dark Lord, without one bit of planning. Are you suicidal?"

Turning red, Hermione mumbled an apology. She then sat by the window, watching the sun fall low beneath the horizon as Dumbledore prepped her quickly but efficiently, then spent the majority of the time constructing a long letter to himself.

When the sky was completely black, he finally cleared his throat. Her legs were stiff from sitting for so long.

He handed over the parchment, and then pulled out his wand. Wordlessly, he conjured a tattered bag, and handed that over too. "It has some old clothes of Minerva's. I'll explain to her in the morning what you have done. I'm sure she will not mind, in this situation."

Hermione nodded gratefully, feeling a small comfort in the italic words on the parchment, and the bag full of someone else's memories.

"Ok," Dumbledore nodded, looking around the room as though there was something he missed. "I think you are prepared. You are so brave for doing this, Miss Granger."

She nodded, suddenly not feeling very brave at all.

She twirled the dial five times, feeling a rush run through her fingertips, up her arm and into her heart. Gasping, she turned to Dumbledore.

He looked on in wonderment, in sadness, but most of all, in admiration. The smartest man she knew was admiring her.

A wind started to whirl around her, whipping her hair into disarray. She felt as though her entire body was being split into two, right down to her cells, down to her _soul_. Black spots appeared in her vision, her knuckles screamed white in protest as she clutched Dumbledore's letter and the bag.

After a few moments, she gave in to the torture. She felt gravity shift, and everything went black.

"Goodbye, Miss Granger."


	2. Rather Plain

Tom Riddle was walking his usual route for evening patrol. Predictably, he had been chosen as Head Boy. He scoffed silently into the darkness. If only Dippet, the old fool, knew what he had actually been up to the summer of his sixth year. He would imagine the shiny golden badge would be promptly ripped from his chest.

He turned left out of the Great Hall, and meandered slowly down the Lake. Tom couldn't help smiling to himself. Everything was going so well. His father was…sorted. His diary was safely stowed, and he had a gaggle of teenage boys following him like puppies. He had great plans for the end of his seventh year.

Just then, in the silence of the night, he heard a sudden gust of wind, too strong to be natural. He turned towards it, wand out and eyes sharp.

Shocked, he lowered his wand when he spied the source.

A girl, no older than sixteen, was sprawled on the floor. She had a halo of curly brown hair framing a pale face, with thick, dark lashes. He saw she was slim under thick travelling robes, but somewhat short.

All in in, Tom concluded, she was rather plain. She had a thin upper lip, and that _hair_, seriously.

Surprised at himself for standing there and judging her looks rather than helping, he quickly levitated her to the infirmary.

There goes the hope of a painless year, he growled to himself.


	3. American Reject

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth as she felt her stomach twist. She jerked over to the left and coughed up some bile, cursing herself for not eating before she had made the jump.

After a few dry heaves, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took in her surroundings.

She recognised the hospital wing immediately. The white brick walls were slightly cleaner in this time, but the wrought iron beds covered with white sheets were very familiar. The curtains around her bed hung open so she could see the bumbling wizard in the corner. He had a long salt and pepper braid hanging far down his back and was humming a bright, chirpy tune.

At a quiet _ahem_ from Hermione, he spun around. A smile was already plastered on his wrinkled face.

"Hello dear! My name is Nurse Harper. My _my_, you don't look so well, I must say!" Breezing to her side, he pulled out his wand with a flourish and mumbled a few quick spells.

A weathered and beaten finger tapped on his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm, all I'm getting is an aura of nausea but nothing major dear, don't you worry. I'll prescribe a fast and easy anti-nausea potion, and that should clear you right up." He flitted over to a desk in the corner covered with assorted potion. After selecting one, he passed it over. It was a cool blue liquid and rather pleasant tasting. Instantly, she felt the coolness of the liquid spread through her body, and her stomach was instantly settled. She smiled sheepishly at the nurse, and he enthusiastically grinned back.

"Now, what is your name dear?" He asked, conjuring a notepad and a quill.

Hermione pondered for a moment. Could she say her real name? Seeing no harm, she told him, "Hermione Granger."

"Well Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet are going to come and see you. A strange case you are indeed. Seem to have appeared out of thin air! Good thing Tom had been there, otherwise Merlin knows how long you would have been-" Hermione zoned out, letting the old man babble. Her bag and letter were thankfully on her bedside table.

A few minutes later, two wizards entered the room.

One was very elderly, late eighties at least. He was tall and wiry with his white hair brushing his shoulders and crow's feet lining his beady eyes.

When Hermione's eyes flicked to the other man, so close in resemblance yet so different, she felt as though she'd swallowed ten of the potions.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she breathed excitedly, before realising he would have no idea who she was. His auburn hair was shot with grey, but he looked so _young_. The twinkling blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, although narrowed in confusion, were identical to the Dumbledore she knew.

"Hello Miss…" he stalled. Both wizards approached her bed.

"Granger. It's Miss Granger," she said hurriedly. She reached for the letter and handed it over immediately. Still bemused, he eagerly reached for it and scanned the parchment in a matter of moments.

"Ah," he breathed, intrigue flashing across his face before he composed it and turned his attention to Dippet. "Armando, this is my god daughter. It appears as though her parents have been in a dreadful accident. I didn't realise Grindewald's presence in America had gotten so bad." He looked up at Hermione, and she realised a beat too late she was supposed to speak.

"Um, yes that's right. It had gotten…bad," she finished lamely. What was she supposed to say? She had forgotten that Grindewald was the Dark wizard of this time, and she had already said goodbye to her parents, so she supposed she could pretend they had died and Dumbledore was her next of kin. But from America? She didn't have an American accent!

Dumbledore thankfully saved her, his brilliant mind fishing from the letter. "I tried so hard to keep the Granger's a secret to keep them safe," he explained quickly. "I sent them all over to America, Hermione was about eleven or so. Alas, he found you. How, I do not know. This is a very sad time indeed." He allowed his face to fall slightly, as though in grieving, and Hermione copied.

Dippet's face crumpled in compassion. "I am so sorry for your loss, Hermione."

She nodded, and even managed a small tear to escape.

"Are you here to study at Hogwarts?" he enquired, his entire body language was now friendly.

She flicked her eyes over to Dumbledore, who nodded, and said "Yes, if that's okay, sir."

Dippet laughed. "I wish you had her manners, Dumbledore! _Accio, Sorting Hat_."

After a few more questions, which Hermione managed to deflect carefully off to Dumbledore, the Sorting Hat zoomed into the room.

Dippet placed the old black hat on her heavy curls. It sprung to life inside her head.

"_Ah, an interesting mind you have, Miss Granger. You aren't from this time? And so much hurt for a young girl." _Hermione gasped. She had forgotten how much the Sorting Hat could see. "_A Gryffindor, I can feel it running through your veins. But that would not be helpful for you in this time. You need to be close to young Mr Riddle? What a clever boy. A Ravenclaw if it were not for his ambitious mind."_ Ambitious, she scoffed. That's one way to label the Dark Lord. "_Yes, I imagined he would move onto great things. Well, better be…"_

"Slytherin!"

Hermione felt the blood rush out of her face. She supposed it was necessary, but the thought of herself in Slytherin colours made her shiver.

"Oh wonderful! Our own Head Boy is in Slytherin, Miss Granger. Actually, I'll go fetch him now, he should be in the Great Hall eating his dinner. I'm not needed here anymore…" Dippet trailed off and left the room, leaving Dumbledore and Hermione alone.

Well, almost alone. She could still here Nurse Harper humming cheerfully in his office.

Dumbledore sighed, grabbed one of the wooden chairs haphazardly stacked, and sat down next to her bed.

"A curious case you are, Miss Granger. I cannot believe that matters have become that bad in the future for me to send a student into the past. I did not say why. Although I can imagine," his face twisted unpleasantly.

"Do you… Do you know why I'm here, then?" She asked, sitting up more in her bed.

He shook his head. "I did not go in to specifics in my letter. I must have thought it better if I let the situation go untouched by me. But please Hermione, do your best. I must have been desperate." His eyes became pleading, and she couldn't help but roll hers.

"I've heard it all before. Yes I will try."

Just then, the doors banged open, and a figure entered. Tall, slender, wavy brown hair and cold brown eyes. And a gleaming head badge on his chest.

He walked with a sense of importance, and halted at the edge of her bed, flashing her a one million dollar smile.

"Hello, Miss Granger. My name is Tom Riddle."

Hermione looked up at his cool eyes for a few seconds, before throwing up over the side of her bed again.


	4. Green Silk

She couldn't believe it. After a mumbled apology and quick introduction, Dumbledore had sent Hermione away to her dormitory.

With Tom Riddle.

Clutching her bag to her chest, Hermione followed the boy across the Great Hall and down into the dungeons.

Silent for a long time, he finally spoke. He had a lovely voice, like water over rocks. It was the voice of a murderer. "Would you like me to take that for you?" He nodded towards the bag.

Her heart jumped into her throat and she thrust the bag over. With a confused look, Tom carried on walking, the bag looking out of place in his hands.

He was very tall, she thought, her head clocking to the side to watch. He walked with such a purposeful stride. And he was so… _normal _looking. Harry had described a bald headed, snake eyed monster. Obviously the transition was yet to come.

"Why are you here?" he asked suddenly, stopping outside a patch of wall that seemed nondescript.

"Um… My parents died. Dumbledore is my god father." She hoped the backstory would suffice. Voldemort was a master of deception.

Surprisingly, Tom scoffed. "What?" Hermione asked angrily, her face pinching in a cute way. She then reminded herself who she was talking to, and slipped her expression into something calmer.

He looked at her, his dark eyes regarding her coldly. "I cannot imagine Professor Dumbledore," his lips pursed sourly at the name, "would be so happy that you would be sorted into Slytherin."

"Albus loves me no matter what," she waved off in a hopefully blasé attitude. Then she glanced towards the wall. "Any reason we're standing in a cold dungeon staring at a brick wall?"

"It's the entrance. _Pure blood_." Figures.

The bricks slid sideways, similar to the effect of walking into Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron. It revealed a short corridor, and a lot of green at the end.

They walked through side by side, and ended up in the Slytherin Common room.

In second year, Harry and Ron had come to this common room in the hopes of finding out if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin. She laughed quietly to herself at their stupidity. If only it had been that simple. Since she had accidently turned herself into a cat using the Polyjuice Potion, she wasn't able to go with them. But now, she had a full year to spend in there.

The common room was dark – no windows of course, being underground. However, instead of making her feel claustrophobic, she actually felt quite comfortable. There was a fireplace with a brick mantle on the left side of the room. The fire had been charmed to have green flames that licked up the side of the black wood. The sofas and chairs were either black leather, or emerald green, and all looked to be brand new. It was a much bigger space than the Gryffindor common room, and square because they were not in a tower. A few book shelves scattered the east side of the room, they seemed to all be dark books.

"I was expecting it to be dim and dark, but it's actually kind of beautiful," Hermione remarked, walking a few feet. The rugs was a deep green, and looked so soft she had to stop herself from reached down and running her fingers through it.

"Why would you expect that?" Riddle's voice was suspicious, and she remembered that she was supposed to not know anything about Hogwarts.

"Oh, Albus would tell me stories in his letters. Even though I didn't attend Hogwarts, sometimes it definitely felt like it." A cheeky smile broke out on her face, and she threw it back at him before flitting over to the bookshelves.

Running a finger down the spines, she couldn't help but become a tad excited. So many books she had not read!

"You read?" His voice was much closer than expected, and she spun around, finding him a mere metre away. Her bag was abandoned by the door. She felt her wand in her pocket to ensure it was still there, and nodded quickly.

Pointedly, she yawned.

"Oh, you are tired. Of course, you must have been travelling a long way."

She jerked her chin up, defensive. "From America, actually. But yes, if you could show me to my room I would be thankful."

He grabbed her bag and led her through a doorway leading to a spacious room with two beds, one occupied by a sleeping bundle. She took her bag from Riddle and silently walked over to the empty bed. Riddle waved her goodnight, and shut the door quietly. It made a small click.

When alone, she changed into her nightclothes – a skimpy gown, go Mrs M! – and fell asleep soundly. She found some unknown comfort in the silk green sheets, and that night she dreamt of tall dark figures, and flashes of green light.


	5. Cracks

Tom just could _not _wrap his head around her. This annoyed him to no extent. He knew _everything_. Who was she? Dumbledore's goddaughter? He supposed it could be true.

Exasperated, he threw the door to his room open and huffed down on the bed.

Women usually looked at him with some level of desire. Although he played no part in that kind of human nature, he knew he was what one would call handsome. It wasn't that he was vain about it, but it was hard not to notice.

But she, she had not looked at him with sultry eyes and licked lips. She looked _afraid_. And honestly, although it pained and excited him at the same time to admit, it kind of turned him on. He wanted to see if he could get the same reaction out of her. During their walk to the dormitory, he could feel her eyes boring into his shoulder blades. He wondered if he had turned around, would she be looking in wonder or terror?

"Gah!" Completely put out, and at odds, he rid himself quickly of his clothes and jumped in his shower. Head Boy privileges meant his own bathroom.

He paused during his cleaning, letting the scalding water rush off his pale skin. He couldn't stop thinking about the easy smile she cast at him when she looked around the common room. When Dumbledore told him she was a Slytherin he had his doubts, but seeing her bathed in the green light seemed to fit somehow. But still, the girl seemed innocent.

Tom couldn't shake the feeling that the girl was somehow here for him. He knew Dumbledore was suspicious of him, but enough so to send his own goddaughter to spy on him? He was debating between ignoring the girl completely, or become close enough to hear all her secrets.

And those caramel eyes seemed to hold a lot of secrets.

He seemed to lean more to the latter option, before stepping out of the shower and waltzing into his room.

"Oh, sorry Tom," a gruff voice said from the bed.

Tom scowled and grabbed his wand. He cast a quick drying charm before pulling on some pyjama bottoms. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Abraxas Malfoy was sprawled on Tom's bed, his hand linked behind his head. He had scruffy, bright blond hair, and short stubble lining his square jaw. Ice blue eyes shined brightly in the evening light, sheltered slightly by thick blond eyebrows. Tom had always compared Malfoy to a mountain troll. Tall and brawny, with very little brains. Still, he made a good follower, if not a good friend. He told rather too many stories about sex for Tom to consider him anything more.

"Nice to see you too, Riddle. I came to talk about Edmund."

Instantly, Tom's hair on the back of his neck stood straight. "Lestrange? What about him?"

Malfoy sat up, his easy smile erased as his eyes grew cold. "He's not… adjusting. This summer, I think it showed him how real it's gonna get." His tone was melancholy. Tom hadn't noticed that Malfoy and Lestrange were that close.

"Adjusting?" Tom's own voice was hard and brisk. He had always been good at keeping his own emotions at bay. Especially when talking to someone beneath him.

Abraxas sighed, and his face fell a bit. "You wouldn't know, 'cause you got this new room. But he has nightmares. Wakes me up most nights. At first he mumbles words and stuff, but I can't really make it out. But then he starts sweating, and sometimes he screams. I haven't had a decent night in so long."

"Fucking hell," Tom growled. Of course it had to be Edmund that would start to build a conscience. "Do you think he has told anyone? Even Rosier."

Abraxas adamantly shook his head. "I don't think he's done that. Not yet anyway. But he's cracking. What do you think will happen when he does?"

Tom snarled. "Dumbledore will finally have his excuse to expel me."

Abraxas shrugged. "Me as well, but my father would buy me back in, I guess. Unless you wouldn't come back?" He eyed Tom, carefully watching his response. He knew he wanted to go wherever Tom would have him. He knew that boy would tear the world apart, and he wanted to be on the side that remained standing.

Suddenly, Tom found himself thinking of the girl. But that was ridiculous. Why would he want to stay for her?

"We don't have to think about it yet," he said hurriedly. He hope Lestrange would be able to hold himself together. Really, what they did that summer was only the start.

"Well, let's hope he's made of some tough material."

Tom nodded absently. "Yeah… Let's hope."


	6. Fire In A Bottle

Hermione's first day had gone very well. She had been allowed to do all the subjects she did in her own time, so she didn't find it difficult to slip back into the routine. She even impressed Professor Slughorn in Potions with her Draught of Living Death. He invited her to something called The Slug Club. Apparently it was some party at the end of the week, and she figured why not.  
>She also found out her roommate was called Annie Blackwell. Annie was very chatty and bubbly, which Hermione found odd for a Slytherin. She also insisted that she style Hermione's hair, which she did into a sophisticated up-do with a few loose curls framing her face.<br>Annie had thick black hair herself, and eyes that were brown in some light, and green in another. Freckles dotted along a pointing nose, and thick black lashes that framed her slanted eyes. She was beautiful in the untamed sort of way. It helped that she was 5"8 and had a stomach so flat Hermione could iron on it.  
>At that moment, they both lay on the floor of the common room. Hermione was working on some charms work. She felt almost normal. If she closed her eyes, she could nearly hear the scratch of Harry's quill and the groaning from Ron. A few more seconds and he would ask for help…<br>"Done!" Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she saw Annie roll up a long piece of parchment and flip over onto her back. "I didn't think learning about magic could ever be so boring. If I had known, I might have just stuck to doing the accidental kiddy stuff and threw the letter away when I got it." Annie laughed, closing her eyes. When she felt Hermione's questioning stare she carried on. "I know, I know it's weird that I'm a mudblood and in Slytherin." She sat up, looking Hermione close in the eyes. "But please don't tell anyone. No one knows."  
>Quite surprised she had even been trusted in the first place, Hermione nodded earnestly. She wanted to say that she knew how Annie felt, although maybe not as intensely, but she didn't know if she could confide in her. Coming from the future was a slightly larger secret to entrust than being a mudblood.<br>Suddenly Annie sat up, her eyes alight. "Let's go do something." She grabbed Hermione's arm with one hand and levitated their papers with the other. She marched them both to their room.  
>"Annie, what?" Hermione asked when they reached their room and she got her hand back. She watched as Annie leapt over to her suitcase and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid, her eyes blazing. "Firewhisky!" Annie squealed, popping the cap and taking a quick swig. Her wince turned into a smile and she passed the bottle to Hermione.<br>"Annie, it's a school night…" Hermione started to wave it off, but then she took the bottle. If she had chance to let off some steam, she should take it, right? She took a small sip, feeling the burn as it painfully travelled down her throat. But then, as though an opposite effect to the nausea potion she took the day before, it felt as though a fire was ignited inside her veins.  
>Annie grinned mischievously, and Hermione felt herself mirroring the action. She took another drink, bigger this time before handing the bottle back.<br>"Good, right?" Annie asked, gulping down the liquid. They carried on in this fashion until Hermione decided she was good and drunk. She could barely see three feet in front of her. It felt as though minutes had passed as the easy chatter turned into slurred words and night time confessions.  
>"I lost my virginity on that bed right there!" Annie practically shouted, falling over her own feet in her struggle to pat the bed in question. "With a Hufflepuff!"<br>Hermione clutched the bottle to her chest, howling with drunken laughter.  
>"I'm still a virgin!" she said, her laughter breaking the words up so it was almost incomprehensible.<br>Annie's mouth popped open. "Well, I can't take back my horrible first time, but we can give you a chance to have one!" For the second time that night, Hermione's arm was grabbed and dragged, this time to another dormitory. The stumbled and banged into walls.  
>"Wait, wait Annie!" she tried to argue, still holding the firewhisky. Half the bottle had gone. Annie knocked bravely on the door before letting herself in, towing Hermione with her.<br>The dormitory was much larger than theirs. Five beds held five boys, each with puzzled expressions on their faces. Hermione had forgotten that she had changed into her pyjamas, and she might as well have been naked for all the coverage they did her.  
>"Hermione, this is Abraxas, Edmund, Seth, Bruce and Raymond, but you have to call him Ray."<br>Not knowing which name went with which boy, and not being able to see any of them, Hermione just waved. "As you can see, we are both intoxicated, and wondered if you boys would be interested in becoming mildly intoxicated with us."  
>They all laughed and hooted, and the party continued on there. As it turned out, the boys had also bought reinforcements in the form of Muggle vodka and tequila. Hermione's head span more and more as her liver fought to keep up, and she soon found herself lying on Abraxas' bed, her body nestled next to his.<br>He was good company. He was much like Ron, but she forced herself to ignore the resemblances and focus on the differences instead. If she thought of her best friend she would most definitely become sad. So she looked at his blond hair and his blue eyes and laughed at all his jokes.  
>"So, as I was saying," Ray said, his voice carrying out over the chatter and the bottle of tequila sloshing as her gestured. "It was me and Annie in this Muggle sex shop," he pointed to Annie, who giggled wildly, waving her arms.<br>"No no Ray you cannot tell this story!"  
>"Oh I'm going to!" Ray insisted. "So we're looking around – you guys have no idea how weird some people must be – and Annie points out this massive-"<br>"Where did you come from, beautiful?" Abraxas breathed in Hermione's ear, effectively catching her attention. She brought whatever bottle she had in her hand to her lip.  
>"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" she giggled. Laughing, he grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap. Their faces were inches apart, and his breathing slowed. She noticed his eyes flicking between hers and her lips.<br>"Abraxas, I um…" she tried to think of a way to back out, but she was saved. The door of the dormitory banged open.  
>Tom Riddle stepped through, shock flashing on his face before being replaced by anger.<br>Well, semi-saved. 


	7. Physical

Tom's day had been fairly slow and ordinary.

He had toast for breakfast, managed to finish all his homework in a free period, and won a round of chess against Seth. He was thinking about asking him to join his service, but it was too soon to tell how it would be received. He had also spoken to Edmund, who had assured him that everything was ok.

All in all, it was very boring.

He hadn't seen the curly haired girl all day, and for some reason this upset him. Of course, it wasn't anything more than curiosity that was eating away at him.

At around 12 o'clock he came in from rounds and walked straight to his room, but then he heard talking and laughing from the boy's dormitory.

The sight he was greeted with was not what was expected.

At first, he just saw Annie on Edmund's bed, where she usually was nowadays. He was concerned at how close they had become. If he told her anything, it would be catastrophic. About to ask her to leave, his eyes then flicked across the room to Abraxas' bed, and his mouth popped open.

There she was. Miss Granger. She was scantily clad and most certainly drunk.

And she had her long, pale legs wrapped round Malfoy's waist.

Seeing red, Tom couldn't help it. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded of the room. He was met with silence.

Everyone was frozen, obviously too scared of him to move. Even those who were not his followers knew what he was capable of.

"Is anyone going to answer me?" His voice was smooth, unreadable. But he saw the fear in everyone's faces. Particularly her's.

He felt an unfamiliar twinge in his pants at the sight of her.

Raymond cleared his throat. He was the most confident of the boys. "Riddle, do you want to join us? We're just having a drink."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "On a school night? Hardly… responsible, is it?"

This is when Malfoy laughed, clearly drunk and not thinking straight. "Oh come on Tom, even you know how to live a little." Tom saw his arms squeeze a little tighter around Miss Granger, and he leaned up to whisper something in her ear. She gave him a little smile, and Tom almost lost it there and then.

"Girls, get out." His command was close to a hiss. When no one moved, he pulled out his wand. "_Now_! I am Head Boy and if you do not obey my orders-"

Granger jumped out of bed as though she had been electrified. Tom wondered how she knew to be scared of him when she should know nothing about him at all. Again, the word _spy_ flared angrily in his head again.

She was dressed in next to nothing, and it certainly worked for her, although Tom tried to ignore it as she edged around him and all but sprinted out the door. Annie left after a quick peck on the cheek by Lestrange.

"Lestrange, Malfoy, come with me."

Tom stalked down the hallway, his cloak flared behind him. He entered his room and waited for the two boys to join him.

When they did, he hit Lestrange with the curse first. "_Crucio_."

He heard the screams as though second hand. He had mastered this curse in his fourth year. It meant nothing to him now.

He let it go on for five minutes before thanking Lestrange for his time and sending him away. Lestrange was sweating and ashen faced. His black hair stuck to his forehead as he shakily stood to his feet. He patted Abraxas' shoulder as he passed. They both assumed the anger was aimed at him.

Malfoy tried to reason. He always tried to reason.

"Tom please, what're you doing? We were just having a bit of fun. Nothing came of it. We drink all the time. It's never bothered you before."

Tom circled him silently, wand pressed against his lips.

"Was it the girl?"

The circling stopped.

"If you like her man, I mean I'll stay away. All you have to do is say. Although, I think she really digs me so-"

Malfoy staggered as the fist connected with his face. Tom looked disgusted at his hand. Why had he resorted to physical violence instead of using magic? Was he some sort of common muggle?

"You can leave now."

Malfoy hurried away, leaving Tom alone.

He sank onto his bed, leaning back.

Yes, always alone.


	8. Awkward Encounter of the Third Kind

"Oh, Merlin."

Hermione awoke. The pounding in her head was worse than when she had jumped fifty years into the past, and she felt familiar waves of nausea.

She looked out of one eye to Annie, who was sat on the side of her bed. She sported a similar expression to how Hermione felt.

"That's it," she swore. "I am never _ever_ drinking again."

"Agreed," Hermione whispered. She was thinking about Riddle. She had been thinking about him the whole night. Why was he so angry? Was he just always like that? Or maybe he was just upset that his followers were slacking. Or maybe he thought they were fraternizing with the enemy.

"Did you see the state of Tom?" Annie asked, forcing Hermione out of her worrying.

"Oh I know. Why was he so angry?" Hermione tried to appear nonchalant as she dressed for school. Annie had still not made any effort to stand up.

She got a shrug for an answer. "Beats me. Maybe he was jealous about you and Abraxas." Annie flashed a sheepish grin and even managed to pull off a wink.

Hermione sighed. "There is no me and Abraxas. Stop making things up." She half-heartedly threw a pillow in the direction of her roommate, but it fell short. They both stared at it before bursting out in laughter, and then simultaneously holding their heads and the headache hit.

"If you say so, Granger. But trust me, if you wanna marry big, marry a Malfoy." Annie finally stood up and starting pulling on her socks, so she didn't see the horror that just struck Hermione's face.

A _Malfoy?_ She was close to kissing someone who was related to _Draco freaking Malfoy_? She made a slightly stronger promise to herself to never, ever get drunk again.

It was impressive how fast both witches got ready, with five minutes before the first lesson began. Armed with pumpkin juice from the kitchen, they avoided the Great Hall, agreeing that they couldn't stomach food in their state.

They didn't see the two empty plates next to Riddle's that usually held a blond giant and a brooding brunette.

Hermione's week flashed by.

Keeping up with lessons and homework was just as challenging in the past as it was in her own time.

She found that she had safely made it to top of her class in everything, just as she should be. After a year of DA, she even shocked the teacher in Defence Against the Dark Arts when she produced a beautiful otter when studying patronuses. Apparently, she was the only one in the school to do so. It filled her with pride.

Annie and Hermione continued to grow closer as the week went on. Annie even told Hermione about her twin sister who was oddly un-magical. She said it caused such a divide between them that Annie was unsure they could ever be close again. Hermione often spoke about her parents aswell. She tried to lie as little as possible, and apart from the location she could mostly tell the truth. She told Annie about her mudblood status and the two girls bonded over being the anomaly.

Hermione rarely saw Riddle, and when she did she put her head down to avoid his dark stare. She couldn't shake the feeling that he had been watching her, though. She wondered if maybe he had figured it all out, and he was waiting until she was alone so he could strike.

But she made it safe and sound to Sunday evening.

Well, until she remembered she had promised to attend the Slug Club dinner.

"I can't believe you got invited! And you didn't even tell me!" Annie shouted through the doors of the bathroom. Hermione was inside shaving her legs. The dress Annie had lent to her was short enough to require some last minute maintenance.

"Yeah, well I can't believe I forgot!" Hermione was now running her fingers through her wet hair, trying to smooth it out.

"You do realise that only the elite get invited to these things? Six years of my time doing extra help around the potions lab and what do I get. Zilch. Nada. No prestigious invite for you, _Annie_. And then you get invited after one week? Oh Merlin, I could just _kill _you_-_"

"Annie will you just go back to the room! All you're death threats are putting me off." Hermione heard Annie stomping away, still muttering about unfairness and social standing.

A moment too late, Hermione realised Annie had taken her towel to avoid it getting wet in the shower, and she had no clothes with her apart from her knickers. She would have to walk through the common room to get from the communal bathroom to her room.

She stood shock still in the shower, trying to find a good plan that avoided her having to streak through the common room, but she came up empty. Deciding that it was a now or never situation, Hermione slipped out of the shower and into her underwear. Unfortunately, she had also picked up a thong in her rush to get ready.

Typical.

She opened the door of the shower room to look left and right, and hurried down the corridor leading to the common room. A quick glance through the door revealed it to be empty, so she took her chance.

She almost made it halfway before hearing a voice.

"Miss Granger?"

She spun around, her hands flying to her boobs to cover herself up. On an emerald chair by the fire sat Tom Riddle, a book open in his lap.

He had a look of shock on his face.

"Um… Annie took off with my towel." She tried to explain. He continued to stare at her. His shocked expression began to morph into something else, something hungry. "I'm…"

He was wearing a white, crisp shit and grey suit trousers, green tie hanging loose around his neck. His brown hair was styled sharply, as though he had somewhere to go. He stood up and took a step towards her. He had smart shoes on as well, and smelt completely intoxicating, like fresh water mixed with mint leaves. She found herself almost leaning towards him too...

She heard the entrance to the common room grind open, and she snapped out of the spell. People would start coming back from dinner around about now.

"I've really got to go," she almost shouted, and she ran the hundred metres to her room. The door slammed shut behind her and she leaned against it for support, breathing heavily.

Annie was laughing profusely on her bed, her face turning red with the lack of oxygen.

"You little toerag," Hermione snapped, snatching the towel from Annie's hand.

"You should see your face," Annie said hysterically, wiping away tears.

Cursing her new friend, Hermione got ready for the dinner in silence.


	9. Epiphany

Tom wordlessly levitated a candle to the ceiling of Slughorn's room, and cast a few charms to make the flame flicker the colours of the houses periodically.

His Professor was a big believer in house unity. To spite him, Tom made the Slytherin green linger a few seconds longer than the others.

"Ah Tom, brilliant wandwork as always." Slughorn came behind him and patted his back. He was dressed in his finest, purple dress robes, reminding Tom painfully of a bursting plum.

Tom himself was wearing a dark black dress robe over his shirt and trousers. His black bow tie was pressing tightly against his Adams apple. Dressing impeccably was always a must for him. Slughorn's first party of the year always rolled around too soon, but as his favourite, Tom was required to be there.

He had turned up early to help with the decorations, as he did every year. The room had been completely transformed. The tables and stools were vanished, leaving one, white clothed table in the middle, seating eight people. Tom remembered seven people from last year, so someone else must have found a way to weasel into the Slug Club. Tom would offer up his own place if he did not need to be close to the Professor. It was a stupid tradition, full of the elite purebloods who have more money than sense.

The candles Tom had set around the classroom gave the setting a pleasant ambiance. Soft, classical music played from an invisible source.

"Thank you, sir. Let's hope this dinner is as pleasing as they all have been." He took his seat, furthest from the door. It had been his seat from first year.

Slughorn sat next to him. "Well, I've invited Miss Granger tonight. A very promising student, Tom. Very promising indeed."

At the sound of her name, Tom's eyes flashed red, his nostrils flaring from the memory of _her_, naked in front of him.

Slughorn noticed. "What is it Tom?" he placed a soft hand on his arm. "Does Miss Granger displease you?"

Tom lazily conjured some water and took a sip, thinking about how to phrase his answer. "She doesn't… _displease _me. I just don't trust her." As soon as he said the words he knew they were true. It didn't make any sense for her to be in Hogwarts for her sixth year. Dumbledore had never spoken of a goddaughter, and over the past week he saw no evidence of their relationship in the way they communicated. She displayed no indication that she was grieving for the parents she had supposedly lost. And the way she looked at him, it was as though he had killed her parents, not Grindewald. Had she been warned by other people in the school that he had a mean streak? He quickly ruled this out. She had only had a week to get to know him, and he had only seen her with Annie. Perhaps Dumbledore had spoken of Tom previously, but again the relationship was debatable.

Also, Tom thought, his mind whirring as he had his epiphany, she had no American accent. Regardless of the fact she had only lived there for five or so years, she should have picked up some lingo. Instead, she spoke as though she was from a different time. Her words were lazier, stretched out. She sometimes spoke-

Tom's eyes popped open.

His voice was barely a hiss, too low for Slughorn to hear in the corner where he was pouring himself a drink, leaving Tom at the table after he had tried to enquire about his answer. He knew it was best to leave him alone when he was thinking this deeply.

"From. Another. Time."


	10. Confronted

Hermione was close to missing the dinner altogether. The ridiculous shoes Annie had placed on her loudly announced her arrival when she finally ran through the door the Slughorn's room. She was taken aback by the drastic change.

A simple, white clothed table was placed in the centre of the room, holding nine empty dinner plates and eight angry guests. The lights flickered and a piano piece was playing softly in the background.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Hermione stuttered, quickly taking a seat. She felt seven pairs of eyes burning into her, the self-consciousness setting in. She felt one pair slightly more than the others. Annie had assured her that her midnight blue dress would be completely acceptable. It had a tight, beaded bodice with a sweetheart neck, laced sleeves and a full skirt that fell to her knees.

Hermione noticed Edmund, Abraxas and Tom from the table, but the other four students she had not met. Once she was seated Slughorn smiled encouragingly and stood up, the buttons over his belly threatening to rip.

"Okay, now we are all here. I would like to welcome you to the first Slug Club dinner of the year. The next will be the Christmas ball, which I hope to see you all at, so keep up the hard work-"

Hermione could barely cover her scoff as a cough. Hard work? The only thing half the Slug Club could account to is being born into a rich family. Riddle noticed her poorly disguised scorn, but then again he was watching her carefully, his eyes like frozen chocolate. She was avoiding his eyes, and therefore did not notice as Slughorn rambled on.

Finally, he finished up. "So, let's eat!"

The food was delicious. Hermione found herself to be starving, so she quickly wolfed down the soup and main in quick succession. She was just dipping her spoon into her ice cream when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hello."

She turned, thinking that somehow her best friend Harry Potter had come fifty years in the past to find her and bring her home. But the boy, although similar in many ways, was most certainly not her best friend. He had black, wild hair and the same nose, but his chin was slightly rounder, and his eyes were light brown.

Slightly disappointed, she smiled. "Hey."

He held out his hand, which she took. He bent his head low to swiftly drop a kiss on the back. "I'm Alphard Potter."

So he was a relation. She was only seeing a resemblance because she was trying too hard.

"Hermione-" she began, but he cut her off with a flash of his teeth.

"Granger, I know. You're the talk of the school. The mystery orphan from America."

She blushed. "Yes, gossip tends to follow you when your parents die."

He sucked in a tight breath, and she sipped her pumpkin juice casually. She hadn't meant to sound so brisk and abrupt.

"I'm sorry about that," he said quietly, leaning in slightly so she caught the sympathy in his voice.

She smiled slightly. "Thank you. You're surprisingly the first student to say that." When his eyebrows rose, she nodded. "I know. I think people have been avoiding me."

He scoffed. "Wait until you settle in. I can't have a conversation with anyone until your name crops us." She felt herself redden. "Oh no, it's not a bad thing! Everyone is just saying how pretty you are."

Her rosy cheeks turned into a full blown flush. Was the ancestor of her best friend really hitting on her?

"I'm sure that's not true," she said modestly. She tried not to notice Riddle's eyes boring into her across the table, no doubt listening into the conversation.

"Well, when you get to know me, you'll learn that I never lie. How are your classes going? You must be doing well in potions to get invited here."

"It was a one off. I imagine I won't be invited to the next one," she sighed as though this upset her.

"You're too humble, Hermione. Word on the street is you produced a fully corporeal patronus without a second thought." She looked at him, and his eyes were full on wonder. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

"Well, yes actually. My parents taught me."

"Can you teach me?" he pressed.

She smiled in response. "Of course."

His answering smile was much larger. "Brilliant. Meet me in the Entrance Hall at eight tomorrow."

She couldn't shake the feeling that Alphard was more interested in her than learning how to produce a patronus, but she actually enjoyed speaking to him. What harm could it be if she wanted another friend?

Slughorn then captured everyone's attention again, thanking them all for coming, and bidding them a goodnight.

As she was leaving the dungeon, she felt two fingers gently tap her on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw Riddle, his face a pleasant picture.

"Miss Granger, would you mind if I accompany you back to the common room?" His voice was like silk, washing over her and causing her stomach to knot up.

"Um… sure." She mumbled.

They walked in silence for five minutes. He was whistling a soft tune. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he grabbed her arm in a flash and pulled her into a dark corridor. His wand was out, pressed tightly against her neck.

Her breath was coming in heaves and gasps. What had she done? She was painfully aware of her wand pressing against her thigh. She had not thought to keep it on hand.

He smiled gleefully. "So, Miss Granger," he sneered. "I think we need a little chat."

She decided to go for a relaxed attitude. "What about, Riddle"?

He laughed, stepping away from her, allowing her to breathe normally. His wand was still in his hand though.

"I've been watching you," he started, staring intently at her face to gauge a reaction. She gave none. "But you knew that. Why is it that you, an orphan, are not grieving for the parents you have lost?"

She swallowed hastily, feeling as though nails were going down her throat. "People grieve in different ways."

He nodded. "Perhaps. But to not grieve at all? Even I'm more human than that."

Her eyes were daggers as she replied. "I was under the impression you were not human at all, Riddle."

"And where did you get this impression? We have experienced menial contact, and I know that Annie is your only friend, and while she might not like me, she would most certainly not tell you that. Did Dumbledore tell you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Riddle. Just say what you know."

He approached her again so they were nose to nose. His intoxicating scent once again filled her up.

"Are you from the future?"

She decided on being truthful. If he killed her here and now he most likely would be caught. "Yes, in fact I am."

A triumphant expression crossed his face. "I _knew_ it."

"Yes yes, well done. Are you going to kill me now, or later?" She sounded much braver than she felt.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you Hermione." He gently ran a finger down her cheek. "At least," he pondered, grabbing her chin and pulling her face up so she had to look at him. "Not yet."

With that, he left her alone. She fell in a heap on the floor, the sob finally escaping from her chest.

Death seemed as though a better option than what Tom Riddle must have in store for her.


	11. Experiments

He had figured it out. She was not a missing piece to his puzzle, but an entirely new game all together. And he would enjoy winning it.

She had looked so scared when he had confronted her, although she tried to seem brave. A Gryffindor, no doubt, in her past time at least. Oh, oh he hated Gryffindors.

Did she really think that he would kill her? The possibilities she held, the information she must possess in her mind. He would very much enjoy learning every last bit of it.

If she knew who he was, he must succeed in the future. That was a good sign.

He tried to ignore the feeling he got when he heard Alphard Potter calling her pretty. It was as though someone had stabbed him. She wasn't _pretty_. She was more than that. Such a simple title for someone who was not simple at all.

He pulled up his sleeve and pressed down on his dark mark, imaging Malfoy's face. Sure enough, within ten minutes the boy himself appeared at Tom's door.

"You called?"

He was sporting a rather smart black eye and split lip.

"I need you to do something for me," Tom answered, his voice serious. "Tomorrow evening at eight Miss Granger is meeting with that Potter boy in the Entrance Hall. I need you to follow them and tell me where they go and what they do. Do not get caught. That is all."

After Malfoy left, Tom tried to convince himself that he just wanted to keep watch on the girl because of her potential, nothing more. However, that night as he lay in bed, he couldn't help the thought of her in the common room, naked, from cropping up in his thoughts.

Most crudely, his felt the blood rush to his penis, something that had happened very rarely, and he was usually able to ignore.

But this one would not go away.

Thinking a shower would be best to quieten it down, he got unchanged and turned the water on cold. Nothing helped.

Thinking maybe it was time to experiment; he ran a long finger down his length, shivering slightly as he did.

Enjoying the feeling, he shut the shower off and lay down on his bed, his penis grasped in his hand. He moved it up and down, slowly at first and then increasing the tempo. His head threw back in pleasure as he worked up the pace.

After a few more pumps, he came. White liquid shot out the end, and he made a guttural sound in the back of his throat.

After he had cleaned himself up with a _scourgify _he let it sink in what he had done. Never before had he masturbated. Why now? He tried to not to make the link between what had happened and the girl, but he failed. She had ignited something inside of him.

He rolled over, his mind whirring, and eventually fell asleep.


	12. Web of Lies

**Sorry I haven't updated in so long guys! A levels and all that malarkey are just very stressful. I hope you're all still with me, and enjoying this story. Sometimes I read over my own work and I never want to write again, so your reviews are honestly what's fueling my motivation. Some Tomione fluff is coming up soon, so please keep reading. Love you all **

The whisp of silver dissipated once again in the air.

Alphard cursed, collapsing onto the ground by a tree with his head in his hands.

Hermione surpassed the need to smile. She had met Alphard over an hour before and he still couldn't get the spell right. The night had darkened around them, fitting for late September. They were out by the lake, and the nip in the air had given both students a red flush to their cheeks.

"Alphard, it's ok. It took me a long time to master it," Hermione consoled, seating herself on the crisp grass next to the boy.

He lifted his gaze to her. "One more time? I swear this will be the last time I ask you."

She smiled slightly and pulled out her wand. Closing her eyes, Harry and Ron immediately floated into her mind. She imagined Ron's ears turning red as he looked at her, and Harry sending her a knowing smile.

"_Expecto Patronum,_" she whispered. A sleek, silver otter erupted from the end of her wand, swimming through the air. It sniffed around for a while before curling up in a ball and floating. Hermione lowered her wand and smiled. She could never imagine anything so beautiful.

"Miss Granger." A voice cut through her like knives. The otter vanished along with all of her happy thoughts.

Alphard jumped up at once, eyeing the newcomer with disdain.

"How can we help you, _Riddle?_" He sniffed coldly, as though to convey that he would in no way be of any help.

Tom smiled slightly, and turned back to Hermione. "If you could ask your guard dog to stand down please, I need to speak with you. After our last talk, you know that it is important." There was a wicked glint in his eyes.

Hermione felt a flood of fear start in her heart and spread through her body. Alphard glanced between the pair, obviously at a loss.

"Alphard, it is getting late. Maybe we should pick this up later?" She must have sounded convincing as Alphard pocketed his wand and bid the pair farewell. Though not without a frown, he walked back to the castle.

Hermione was about to stand up when Riddle sat down. Surprised, she lowered herself back into her cross legged position.

"Why are you playing around with _Potter_?" Riddle asked, his voice snapping on the name like a stick.

Hermione shrugged. "He reminds me of someone I used to know," she said simply. "Are you going to kill me now?"

His laugh was fake and cold. "Will you stop asking me if I'm going to kill you? I will not lay a single curse on you until you tell me everything you know."

"I… I can't do that, Tom," she whispered. It was the first time she had actually said his first name, and it did not go unnoticed. Riddle stared at her intently, but she was fiddling with a blade of grass and she did not see his frown soften slightly.

"Why not?"

An idea formed in her head. What if she hadn't been sent here to kill him? She could try and spin a story that she was accidently sent to the past. Thinking it was her last hope of avoiding any interrogation, she spoke. "If I told you anything from the future it could alter the path that was destined to be."

This seemed to throw the boy a little. "You mean you weren't sent here to alter the past?"

"Why would I be sent here? Everyone knows it's dangerous to time travel, Tom. To try and change the past would be detrimental to the future. It could ruin everything."

His frown deepened. "Then why are you here? You can't be telling me it was an accident that you have come."

She tried to appear solemn. "It was. Do you really want to know the reason? It's kind of… sad."

He answered with a smirk.

"Not sad in that way," she explained. "Sad as in it makes me seem like some kind of loser."

"Proceed, then."

She decided to weave in some truth in her story. "Well, I couldn't decide what subjects to do in my third year, so I tried to do them all. My head of house was a big fan of intelligence, so she lent me her time turner so I could make it to all the classes. Well, it didn't end so well, so I stopped. But I still wore the turner around my neck just in case. Then, in my first week back of my sixth year, I got into a duel with one of the Slytherin girls, and she used a spell that hit the time turner. And now, voila. Here I am." She gestured to herself half-heartedly. To her own ears, the story sounded too convenient. She hoped that she had managed to trick him.

"And how do you know of me?" he pressed.

"Everyone knows of you in my time." That was the truth.

His answering smile assured her that he believed everything she said. "I must be so powerful in the future. I knew everything would pan out."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you going to kill me now I've told you the truth?"

The silence was deafening. He looked at her very closely, studying her with his cool brown eyes.

"On the contrary, Hermione. I believe you are going to be much more fun to me alive than dead."

After that, he left her alone.


	13. Friendship Born in the Loneliest Times

**Two chapters in one night, I hope you all forgive me for taking so long!**

After their interaction, Hermione did not hear from Tom Riddle for weeks. The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and soon the list came round for those wishing to stay. Dumbledore had told Hermione that she could come and stay with him for the holiday, but she politely declined. Hogwarts felt like her home in this time.

Apparently it was much more uncommon for students to stay as the castle for Christmas. On the last day of term, Annie gave Hermione a quick hug and a kiss on either cheek.

"Are you sure you don't want to come and stay with me, Hermione? My parents truly won't mind. They'll be happy to know I have another friend beside Edmund, and no one stays here at holidays. It will most likely be only you and a handful of people." Annie asked for the third time that day.

"Annie, you really are too sweet. I'll be fine here, I promise."

The black haired girl nodded and said one last good bye before taking her luggage and going to catch the carriage to the train station.

Alone at last, Hermione gathered a few pieces of parchment before heading to the library. She had planned to get all of her homework out of the way so she had more time to enjoy Christmas. Even if she was going to get no presents.

Annie had been right though. The halls were empty and silent. Having rarely stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas in her own time, she was painfully aware at how out of sorts she was. It was too quiet, and she really felt alone. Even the librarian wasn't there to bid her a greeting.

She was just finishing up an essay on how to correctly fight a mountain troll when the chair next to her was pulled to the side.

Looking up, she saw a smiling Tom Riddle staring at her.

"Tom!" she exclaimed, accidently spilling ink all over her essay. A quick _scourgify_ sorted out the extent of the damage, but she was still scared out of her wits. "What're you still doing here?"

He sat down, seeming amused at her actions. "I always stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. It seems to have perfected the art of receiving just the right amount of snow."

She was unsure of whether or not he was joking, so she did not speak.

He shook his head. "Anyway, it appears as though we are two of the four students that have decided to stay. As the other two are lowly Hufflepuffs I sought you out."

She looked puzzled. "Why?"

"I was bored."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" She rolled up her essay and stowed it away in her bag. She was expecting him to request that he practise some unforgivable on her.

"Entertain me."

She rolled her eyes. "And what do you propose we do?"

Two hours later she was ducking behind a suit of armour, her breath coming in heaves, and her eyes peeled so she could locate her attacker. Her wand was hot on her palm from the exertion of her spells, but she tried not to think about it.

"_Diffindo_!" she heard from her right, and the metal exploded.

"_Stupefy_!" she countered, flinging the spell blindly and rushing the next suit.

The next spell narrowly missed her, and she decided now was the time to face the music. She dashed down a corridor and hoped her attacker would follow.

He did.

"_Petrificus totalus_!" She shot. It hit Riddle square in the chest. The look of anger and disbelief froze on his face, and his rigid body fell the floor.

Jubilant, she rushed over and knelt beside him. "What is that now, Riddle? Three to two? Do you concede?" she was arrogantly smiling down at him. When he first suggested they play a game of hide and duel she was worried that she would end up dead. But instead it was the most fun she had had since she travelled.

He blinked twice to indicate she won, and she lifted the spell.

Quick as a snake, he grabbed her arms and flipped her onto her back. He put a leg on either side of her. Their heavy breathing was in sync, and his smile dropped off of his face. Taken by surprise, she lay perfectly still. Maybe he was angry.

But he laughed. It was a sweet, no worried, genuine laugh. The first she had ever heard come from him. "Yes Hermione, I concede. Now, should we go get some lunch?"

He climbed off her and pulled her up one handed.


End file.
